Our World Is Okay
by CloudCuckooLandHasAQueen
Summary: The development of Bruce and Natasha's relationship after Winter Soldier. Their relationship is a complicated one, with lots of eggshells, points that they simply don't talk about, and the development of the lullaby.
1. The Countdown

**Gasp! Another story, so soon? Yes, yes it is. The fanfiction muse is being fed after all my finals and major projects are done. And by God, I wanted more Brutasha. I might actually do bonus chapters on my other major story: A Product of the Red Room, but for now, I'm going to start working on this. It's another "What the fuck happened between Winter Soldier and Avengers Age of Ultron" fic. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Update: Shit, thank you so much for telling me the character tags weren't on. I didn't realize that didn't save. Whoops! You all can find me now!**

He stared at the digital clock on the wall, dread rolling off of him with more and more frequency the closer the number got to 1:50 PM. She was never late and he knew this wasn't going to be any different.

1:44 PM: He thought that he should at least make it look like he was doing something. She would see right through it.

1:47 PM: Maybe she wouldn't even visit the lab.

1:48 PM: It's not like she needs to go to the lab, right?

1:49 PM: He tried to kill her. She probably didn't wave it off as easily as made it sound.

1:50 PM: Oh God, they would have to meet anyway. Tony would no doubt call for a friendly dinner

1:51 PM: He sighed in relief and picked up a tablet to monitor levels.

"Hey, Big Guy."

The tablet slipped from his hands and fell, almost in slow motion. He watched it shatter instead of looking at her in the eyes, using the mess as an excuse to stoop and avoid her. He fumbled, not really knowing what to do outside of take the large bits and not touch anything that might still have a charge on it. His hands didn't seem to be working.

Natasha bent down in front of him, helping him pick up the pieces by sweeping them up in her slender hand, "I didn't mean to startle you—quiet steps are a force of habit."

"I uh—" Words were not forming properly in his mind, let alone his vocal chords and mouth. The corner of her mouth twitched upward slightly.

"I'm not that scary."

"I beg to differ." Tony walked in, interrupting whatever what was going on, "Nice to see you again, _Natalia."_

"Call me that again, and I'll cut you." Her eyes never left Bruce's.

"I have no doubt." I like calling you Natasha best, anyway."

"Good, because that's my name."

Even Tony knew better than to say anything else on the matter, "Well, it's nice to see you in one piece—wait where's Barton? I thought you guys were an item. One doesn't go without the other. That kind of stuff."

It was a good question. Natasha's eyes darkened for a moment before she rose, dumping the broken remains of the tablet in the wastebasket, "We're not always a unit, Mr. Stark."

"Please, call me Tony, We can be on first name terms. We saved the world together. And you pretended to be my PA."

"And that was horrible. Worst job I ever had." She grinned glancing at Bruce. For some reason he felt a little warm, like he was in on a joke. He was used to being in the corner, silently wanting to join the conversation. It was easy when it was just him and Tony, but adding a third party always messed the dynamic up.

Bruce was about to say something clever, but Tony beat him with his usual sociopathic comedic timing, "Worse than that Siberian whatever job?"

"Yes."

"Wait, you prefer getting tortured for two weeks over being my PA? Talk about priorities, man."

Bruce started at that comment, "Wait, you were tortured for two weeks?"

"Yeah. Job went a little bad."

"A little?" Bruce felt incredulous.

Natasha smiled, cocking her head at him. There was something strange and unspoken about her. She didn't seem afraid or disgusted. In fact, she seemed amused by him. Tony didn't like being sidelined to whatever was occurring so he slid in next to Natasha and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She glared ahead.

"Well, what's our favorite super spy going to do now, now that everyone in the world knows her face?"

"Glad you asked, _Tony."_ She squeezed a part of his hand. Bruce laughed when Tony sprang back and found that his fingers couldn't move.

"Hey!"

"I'm making SHIELD go public."

"And an ex spy assassin cloak and dagger sort of girl is going to be the figurehead for it?"

"Well no, but you've got to admit that I look almost as great on camera as I do in person." Tony was still trying to smack feeling into his arm, flailing dramatically.

"Relax, it'll wear off soon."

"What did you do?! This defies science!"

"Nothing defies science, Stark. That is until it does." Natasha leaned up against Bruce's lab table and drew uncomfortably close, almost resting her chin on Bruce's shoulder.

"Sorry about the guy time intrusion, but I really have nowhere else to go until everything's sorted out."

It was then that Bruce realized how shaken up she was. He hadn't heard about her in ages and then suddenly her face was everywhere. People were chatting about her files on forums and even when he tried to avoid it (for some reason, he wanted her to have some semblance of privacy) he saw key words like Red Room and "Russian KGB." It probably wasn't a field day for her so the least of her worries was standing next to the one guy that almost killed her and didn't mean to. He at least had that going for him.

Not that he wanted anything going for him.

She smelled nice.

Bruce wanted to shake away the thought as quickly as it came but the more he tried, the more he noticed things like her hair being clipped short, the way it was when she met him, and her hands. He blinked and shook his head, this time where Natasha could see him. She grinned.

"I missed you, Banner."

"What? But—"

"Water under the bridge. Anyway, I should get going. I have a meeting with Maria. I really just wanted to check up on all of you."

Tony flexed his hand experimentally, happy that it was finally working properly, "Next time, you could just say hi, you know. No finger breaking."

"I didn't break your fingers, Stark." Natasha rolled her eyes at Bruce as she was walking to the door, "I don't know how you can stand working with him, he's so dramatic."

Bruce looked at the clock. 1:56 PM.

He couldn't even process everything that just occurred in the span of five minutes.

 **Me owning Avengers would be the most terrifying thing on the planet so everyone be happy that it doesn't belong to me and I'm just playing with their wonderful characters for my amusement. Then again, the movies are arguably glorified fanfiction of the comic books so I'm not too worried about upsetting anyone. But oh dear, if you want to write a fanfiction for** **Outlander** **, you're a sick and disgusting plagiarist.**

 **People confuse me sometimes.**


	2. People, Not Units

**Here's another chapter. Things have been a little strange and I've been updating other stories first but lookie here! I'm back!**

Natasha knew she was laying it on a bit thick and that Tony noticed **.** He honed in on her almost immediately.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but don't mess with my science bro."

"You really are stupid for a genius." Natasha replied airily, not even looking up from her frozen yogurt and tablet. Contrary to popular belief, she wasn't always working. In this case, she was just reading a book but she wasn't going to give Tony Stark the satisfaction of eye contact.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I did it to mess with you."

He snorts, "And now you've practically got Bruce sitting in his lab with tweety birds spinning around his head. 'I missed you.' Seriously? I think you're already wearing out your welcome and you've been here, what? Six hours?"

"And ten minutes." Natasha added. She really wanted to know what will happen to Amy and Nick, but she closed out of her book and finally looked up at Tony. He actually seemed genuinely serious. When that happened, nothing could deflect him from the topic at hand.

"You're here because—"

"Because running will get me nowhere and sticking around you is oddly good PR. That and Hill would throw a fit if I disappeared or you kicked me out."

"People get mad at me all the time."

"I'm afraid I can relate at the moment." Natasha took another bite.

"Eh. The public had the attention span of fruit flies."

"Are you trying to be reassuring?"

"No. I'm trying to remind you that once this blows over, I'm kicking you out. In the meantime, enjoy the frozen yogurt, don't spill wine on the sofas unless it's a party, and don't pretend to be anyone's PA."

"That was one time." Natasha really had missed all of this. The Avengers had been something so different from what she was used to. They made her feel gloriously included in something bigger than agencies that simply gave kill or spy orders. People that actually seemed to think that they made a real difference surrounded her. Even before she knew SHIELD was a load of infiltrated bullshit, she didn't really trust their judgment. She trusted Clint and Clint seemed to think that they could wipe away what was on their ledgers. Deep down, Natasha didn't really believe that was possible.

Tony announced that he was leaving to do better things with his time than interrogate a former spy and Natasha waved him off like she was batting away a fly. She returned to her book but only a few minutes later, Bruce stumbled in on her. He seemed ready to just turn and leave like he just walked in on her naked. It was a little adorable really. He acted so scared and shy all the time, when in reality he could crush her at any moment. He must have had major anxiety even before he accidentally created the Hulk. After reading his file, she could understand why there could be so much anxiety and anger in one man.

"Are you all right?" Natasha leaned in with one elbow on the table.

"I uhm—well I forgot what I came in here for."

Natasha briefly wondered if it was because of her but batted away that thought. For people like Bruce, there was a long way between a lab and a kitchen and in the process he was thinking about things far more important than a glass or water. Natasha's presence was merely the catalyst for this reaction. She examined him, just like she did with everyone and everything and figured that she had the right idea.

"Water."

His eyes widened in recognition, "I—well—" He spoke as he skirted around the table, "I don't even want to know how you knew that."

"When you wrung your hands, you pulled at the skin on your hands and it didn't snap back immediately. Sign of dehydration."

"I said I didn't want to know." He sounded almost teasing and playful. It was unexpected so early in the game but Natasha welcomed it.

"People rarely say that and mean it. It would've eaten at you all day."

Hesitantly, Bruce sat down in front of her, cradling his water glass with both hands.

"How was Peru?"

He stiffened, "I thought SHIELD didn't know about that—"

"SHIELD didn't. I did." Natasha shrugged, "There's always things to keep off the books. Never know when someone's going to suddenly out everything on file."

"Thanks I guess?" Bruce seemed at a loss after that. He stared down into his glass, "I came back because Tony asked. He thought that—well he had a _very_ silly idea."

"He wants you to actively participate in combat." Natasha filled in flatly. It was not just a silly idea. It was a horrible one and they both knew it.

Bruce nodded, taking a long sip, "He wants the other guy, not me."

"Don't be fooled. He likes having a lab partner that can keep up too." Natasha leaned back in her chair, "Although I do see where he's coming from."

"Seriously? You of all people should know why that's a very, very bad idea."

"Yes. In this current condition it is. In theory, controlled chaos would be a great way to cut through a large number of long range units without fear of losing soldiers. However, the fact that containment would be incredibly difficult makes this strategy an incredibly poor decision. We also have no guarantee that the 'other guy' would stick to barreling through their units and not our own units."

Bruce winced, "People."

"Pardon?"

"People. They're people, not units."

She wasn't angering him. She knew that she wasn't going to trigger a transformation but for some reason, Natasha had the sudden urge to apologize. She didn't though. Instead, she picked up her bowl and washed it out in the sink with soap and water, dried it, and put it in the cabinet.

"The fact that they are people is precisely why using you in the front lines is the last thing I want to do. Explaining to families that a soldier was killed by friendly fire isn't particularly thrilling, Banner."

"I'm sorry—"

"At least in my case, there's no one that would've missed me."

Really, Clint was the only one and he wouldn't be informed the way that civilians were. It wasn't the same thing. Natasha found that being honest with Bruce was the only way she was going to get anywhere with him. Oddly enough, honesty would likely be the best way to manipulate him. The fact that Fury wanted her to find a way to put him on the front lines in a halfway safe manner could be cast aside for the moment. She didn't know how she liked using sincerity to achieve a goal, though. It left her with a strange feeling, like guilt and vulnerability at the same time.

She did miss him. But normally, she wouldn't have said anything.

 **Note: For anyone who doesn't know, friendly fire refers to people on the same side as you killing you. It's not an awesome thing but it happens a lot, usually by accident.**


	3. Cat People

**Thank you all so much for your support! I'm always excited to publish more here and there. Don't be afraid to review. Reviewers get invisible cookies that rain down from the heavens and narrowly avoid the keyboard so there are no crumbs to clean up later!**

Bruce was working again. It was the only way to guarantee avoiding Natasha. He wouldn't even delude himself into thinking that he wasn't avoiding her. For the most part, she was operating on a completely different schedule. He worked late and passed out on the sofa in his lab half the time and she was out a lot. He accidentally saw a snippet of her on the news. She cut her hair. It looked like how it was when she met him and he briefly wondered if she did that on purpose or if it was simply more functional. She looked almost bored and beside her, Maria Hill looked very uncomfortable.

"I think we've established that no one's arresting me and it would be difficult to send me back to a home country that no longer exists." Natasha was beyond clever and sailed into genius territory. He had to admit that, "I technically have no citizenship so I would have to be tried in an international court, which would take forever, would be expensive and full of bias, and would require every other member of SHIELD to be investigated in the same way. Maria can tell you much more about the future of SHIELD."

Bruce turned it off, sighing. She caused a major shit storm and didn't even seem to care. He knew better than to judge outward appearances.

People—not units. He still wanted to cringe and hide after that conversation. His attempt at chastising her backfired into him feeling bad about offending her. Her dark comment about no one missing her if she died made his head spin a little. In thought, he bit his knuckle, staring at the screen without processing any of the data on it. He rolled away from the screen and rose, deciding to head up to the roof to think. Tony said he did far too much of that for his own good. That was the problem with people like them with baggage like them.

Natasha was there.

He thought he could turn around and leave but he figured that was preposterous because she definitely heard his heavy steps. She was still dressed in her clothes from the most recent press conference, one long leg tucked underneath her as she sat uncomfortably close to the edge. Bruce wondered if she ever considered taking the jump or putting a bullet in her head simply because it would be easier than living a life like hers. According to her file, she was five when they started training her. No matter how irritatingly dishonest she could be, it had been trained into her, and no one deserved that.

"This is so irritating." She said at last and he moved to sit on the ledge next to her, "There are lots of people that want my blood—then there's little girls on the street saying that I'm their hero and want an autograph. I shouldn't be _anyone's_ role model."

Bruce couldn't help but agree with that statement.

"Oh well. So what've you been up to, doc?"

"A new containment system Tony's cooked up. It's probably not going to work, though."

"For you, then?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like a shitty idea to me."

"Yeah. I remember you saying no one wants to put me in a cage. Obviously incorrect."

"Lying my ass off, obviously." Bruce couldn't help but smile at that, "For the record, I didn't want to."

"What?"

"Put you in a cage."

"Thank you—I guess?"

"It wouldn't have worked. Why waste energy on it?" Bruce figured that it was the closest he would get to sincerity out of her. "Oh well. It's just Tony trying to find a way to make you feel less—out of control." Bruce frowned. He had great control, that was why he could stay at Stark Tower so easily, "You feel out of control. Like, at the drop of a hat if you transform all bets are off, you'll wreck everything around you, break everything, kill everything—" Bruce winced, "—and there's nothing that can stop it once it happens. You can't even self terminate. At least most of us have that option going. He wants to make you feel safe—which requires feeling like you aren't a danger to others."

"But I am."

"Oh I know." She practically laughed. That always caught Bruce off guard, "But it's the way he thinks."

"It's a nice gesture."

"Inherently, Tony's a good man. If you ever tell him that I _will_ find a way to kill you."

"I don't doubt that for a moment. From your history if anyone could kill me, it'd be you."

Bruce knew he said the wrong thing the moment it came out of his mouth but before he could backpedal from the bad joke, Natasha looked at him. He realized that she hadn't been the entire time they were speaking. She cocked her head and blinked at him a slow smile emerging. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to say something but words weren't forming. He wanted to run but his legs weren't moving.

"We'll get along, okay." She held out her hand. Bruce reached out to take it but clumsily missed and she traced her hand down his wrist and forearm to clasp it and shake it properly. Her phone rang, playing an ominous heavy metal tune. She swung her legs, over the edge and hopped on the ground, "What's up? Yeah, things are fine on this end. Stark hasn't driven me to murder yet. Yeah, that'd probably look really bad right now." She gestured towards the inside and Bruce waved for her to go ahead, "Wait, how many stitches?"

It was the last thing he heard before she closed the door behind her. Clint Barton seemed to be Natasha's only friend. It seemed like she really cared about him but that was inevitably confusing because the last time she spoke fondly of him, she was using it to trick Loki into giving up information. Nothing seemed to exist in her world without being useful.

Bruce sighed. He really did think too much about everything.

That night, he stumbled into her sitting on the couch watching reruns. While he decided not to avoid her anymore, he found two encounters in one day a little much. She was stroking a pillow absently like it was a cat. Did she have a cat once? It was an odd thought but was she a cat person?

"Are you a cat person?"

"What?"

"Just wondering."

"You'd be a terrible interrogator."

"I never had the urge. So. Cat person?"

"Never thought about it." Bruce settled on the sofa, watching her face closely, "Well I had a kitten once."

"Oh no. That must've ended badly if you refer to it only as a kitten and not a cat."

"I was five. My neighbor's dog killed her." Natasha replied, "Her name was Yeva. Ironically, that means life." She sat back against the sofa and Bruce realized that time wise, there wasn't much in between her cat dying and being picked up by the Red Room. She didn't have a single break, it seemed.

"Maybe you should get a cat." Bruce suggested. He didn't know why he was suggesting it but it seemed like a good idea.

"That'd be a good way to irritate Stark." She smirked.

"Ever heard the phrase 'don't bite the hand that feeds you'?"

"That's a silly phrase. If I abided that rule, I'd still be working for a Russian extremist somewhere."

"Fair enough."

He didn't know why, but after that, he found himself more and more comfortable around Natasha. Talking about things as minor as cats and television shows was something normal people did. They were both far from normal, but it made Natasha seem more accessible. She was human. He forgot that sometimes.


	4. The Perks of Being Assassinated

**So sorry for the lack of updates on both of my stories. I was literally in a jungle and all wifi opportunities were spent assuring my friends and family that I wasn't dead and that I hadn't completely lost my mind so fanfiction was on the back burner. But I'm back from my adventure, alive and well! Woo!**

Are you a cat person?

It was a random, innocuous question but its answer told a lot of about people. It was only natural that Natasha lied to answer that question a lot. Usually, Natasha's default was "no, I don't like cats, they tear up furniture and leaving cat hair everywhere is unsanitary and potentially cover blowing." Yet, instead of letting that knee jerk reaction go, she decided to think about it. Did she like cats? She had one when she was small. That was something. Yeva liked sleeping beside her and that kept the bed warm at night. Bruce didn't recognize the deflection for what it was. Instead, he simply made a suggestion that he saw as helpful. It wasn't particularly helpful when she didn't even know if she liked cats properly or not.

For the most part, Natasha didn't know what she liked vs. what her personas liked. She knew she liked Clint and his family and so, against Hill's specific instructions, she went to the farm.

"Auntie Nat!" She was hugged and embraced by two small children and given a questioning glance by Laura.

"Clint's not here."

"I didn't come to see him." Natasha replied, giving the woman a small smile. At first, Laura was incredibly uncomfortable around Natasha but six years had been plenty of time to chip at each other until they moved beyond toleration and into friendship. "I just needed some air."

"And perhaps a task?" Laura asked hopefully.

That's how Natasha ended up on the roof, easily navigating it despite the steepness and replacing a cracked and broken piece.

"Why do you have a slate roof?" Natasha called down.

"Clint's old fashioned. Says it'll last forever and a day."

"Which is totally why I'm up here, right?"

"Are you gonna fall, Auntie Nat?"

"I'd rather not."

Clint's truck pulled into the driveway. Even from her vantage point, Natasha could see him actively rolling his eyes, "I was going to get to that."

"Finish that shed thing in the back first." Laura gave him a kiss on the cheek. Natasha felt a little like she was intruding on the moment so she returned to work.

"Daddy! Make us a playhouse next!"

She liked the Bartons. That was a start.

Natasha made her way back to the tower with a new drawing to put in her binder when she got an idea. She brushed past Tony and his annoying remarks and Pepper's attempts at socializing and went to her room. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a roll of tape. The drawings and paintings she kept in the bottom drawer were easy to put on the wall adjacent from her bed. Natasha was careful only to put up six (three from each from varying stages of development) because she didn't want anyone, even within trusted walls, to know about her consistent contact with two children. Too many breadcrumbs could lead people back to the Barton family.

A traitorous voice in the back of the head said "My family." She supposed that was true. She was an aunt figure to the children and at least and after the fall of SHIELD, she provided adequate comfort to Laura until they could get ahold of Clint. Back in the present, Natasha wandered into the kitchen like a zombie, despite the fact that she ate at the farm only a few hours ago. Laura figured out that Natasha liked biscuits and gravy best (Yet another thing that Natasha could add to the 'like' section of her mind) and made it her mission to make the meal no matter the time of day if Natasha was there. She decided to boil some water in the electric kettle for tea.

"Are you okay?"

She had known Bruce was there but had been intent on ignoring him as long as his concentration remained on the data on the table. Slowly, Natasha turned, leaning against the counter with the sampler box of teas in hand. Bruce looked like he hadn't slept in a while, with bruise like circles around his eyes and dull skin. Yet he asked her if she was okay.

"Are you?" Natasha countered.

"Am I ever?"

She wasn't going to let him get a point with that one, "Okay doesn't refer to your ongoing condition. Just right at this moment."

"Then—I guess I'm okay." He admitted.

"Good."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine."

"Which is shorthand for 'I'm not okay, but I'm brave facing it.'"

"It means I've got a handle on it." The kettle clicked off and Natasha quickly fixed her tea and walked to sit in front of him. Bruce closed out of his blueprints and looked at her, leaning forward on his elbows. He was always hunched, always trying to make himself smaller despite the fact that he could tear everything to shreds if he wanted to lose himself in his anger.

"Fine happens to be the ongoing form of okay. You can be fine, even if you aren't always okay."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, "That's a way to look at it."

"Eighty percent of truth is perception. And yes, before you ask, that is a number I randomly chose to demonstrate a majority rule."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I have no trouble going to sleep."

"Then staying asleep is the trouble?" Bruce's eyebrow quirked upward.

"You're catching on."

"I have the lingering suspicion that's only because you're slowing down for me." Bruce held Natasha's gaze for a moment longer than she deemed comfortable or reasonable.

Natasha heard the click of Maria Hill's shoes before she even entered, "There you are. We thought you may have been kidnapped or assassinated."

"Nope. Just having some tea with Dr. Banner."

"Where were you?"

"My favorite spa. I was in much need of relaxing, Hill." Natasha leaned back over her seat, "Oh right. Your ruling was today."

"You did that on purpose."

"Of course! They hate my guts so the last thing you needed was me there. How did it go?"

"We have the green light. We can commence rebuilding SHIELD when all the HYDRA bases are destroyed."

"So they're afraid us on any more down time will cause the end of the world." Natasha leaned back in her seat, knowing that she was having way too fun acting cutesy and light, "So does this mean I'm employed again?"

"Obviously not as a spy." Maria replied dryly, "But yes."

"I couldn't do much after a very public alien invasion anyway."

"You'll receive your orders shortly."

With that, Maria left. Natasha returned to sipping her tea. Bruce snorted, "What?"

"You really like screwing around with people." Natasha opened her mouth to protest but Bruce held up his index finger and shook his head, "Nope. Has nothing to do with your up—er—training." Natasha wondered why he decided to switch from upbringing to training but she simply waited for what he had to say next. "You would've been like that no matter what. Dunno if that makes things better or worse, but it's the truth."

"As you perceive it."

"Really? We're back to that again?"

"Yup." Natasha sat back in the chair, "Assassination attempts aside" Bruce visibly cringed, "it's kind of a relief not going back to work the way I did before."

"How—uhm—exactly how many people have tried to kill you after you leaked everything?"

"Are we counting the soldiers and assassins or the people who sent them?"

"Both."

"Probably fifty, give or take." Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, thinking for a bit longer, "More. Probably more. They've stopped short of attacking here for the most part. Right now you're kind of my protector."

"What?!"

"Yeah. I didn't mention that?" Of course she didn't, "No one wants to send you on a rampage through New York—again. Go figure."

"You don't seem too worried."

"I'm not too worried about you losing your mind. I mean, it's a definite possibility, but worst comes to worst, it'd be best if you just moved out of the way. Somebody pisses you off or shoots you and then guns me down, there won't be somebody to chase around."

Bruce chuckles, "You're insane."

"I'm practical."

"Next you'll detail the perks of being assassinated."

"Oh that's easy. One, I'd be dead so I wouldn't really care much. Two, I'd become a martyr for Hill to build up. Three, people wouldn't skirt around me so much when I go to the grocery—refer to number one—and four, people will have a field day cutting up this body for medical science."

"Well aren't you special?"

"As far as I know, there's only one other person like me in the world." Natasha tipped her head back and actually felt like laughing. It was a strange, light feeling that she deeply enjoyed. The look on Bruce's face was astonishment for some reason. Was it really so obvious? Natasha sighed, "I suppose that makes me special enough." Bruce nodded, suddenly thoughtful. Natasha cleared her throat and stood up to leave.

"Uh—I—I don't think anyone should kill you or lock you up."

Natasha turned, feeling a little surprised by that outburst, "It's not like it's the first time."

"I just don't think—well you helped save the world you know? That's got to negate a lot of things you uh—did."

"Thanks. But remember that applies to you too."

She left before he could say anything else. She had things to get to anyway. Of course, said things involved getting a frame for her favorite drawings. This led her to the _very_ common place in one of New York's suburbs: A hardware store. It was some local place that an informant swore up and down was the best hardware store around. She didn't care, but she figured it was a good way to keep what remained of her web. It had been raining hard when she finally carried the box frames out to the car. That was when she saw it. A wet, caving in cardboard box.

All the alarms were going off in her head but it still didn't stop her from seeing what was inside.

People who left kittens and puppies in parking lots unattended were fucked up. Natasha had done a lot in her time, but somehow, even outright murder seemed to be dwarfed by the thought of leaving a cold, shaking creature out in the rain. Bruce's suggestion rang through her head again.

"Keep walking." Natasha thought to herself, "Keep—" the kitten mewed pitifully. She could at least take it to a shelter. That thought didn't last particularly long after she scooped the little thing up and got a good look at his big sad eyes.

"Shit."


	5. Chopsticks

**So it's been ages and I know this is short, but hey, an update! My life's been crazy. A lot of school and traveling. My poor suitcase broke over break. I've only had it for a year but it's already dying on me. Wimpy suitcase. Anyone got any brand suggestions?**

 **Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

Bruce was fairly certain he was hallucinating when he and Tony walked into the kitchen after a long day of going over lab expenses with Pepper going through them line by line and telling them where they could save a little money. Bruce felt bad about his expenses and he wasn't even counting his living expenses, or all the property damage he has accumulated over the years. The guilt, however, took a backseat to Natasha, oddly enough.

She sat at the island wearing a tank top, leaning forward over the counter, and feeding a kitten perched on its hind legs with a pair of chopsticks.

"I know you two are here; you should just say something." Natasha didn't even look up at them. "And down." She aimed the chopsticks downward and the kitten followed to eat the chunk of cat food. "And up."

"Romanov, would you kindly explain to me why there's a cat on the counter of my kitchen? It's highly unsanitary—"

"What's his name?" Bruce blurted out. He immediately regretted it, always feeling awkward when he interrupted Tony.

"Chopsticks."

"You can't be serious. _Chopsticks?_ Who names a cat 'Chopsticks?"

"Obviously, I did."

"All right, well make sure he doesn't urinate in the kitchen—or anywhere else for that matter. Get a litter box. I'm going back to the lab. Maybe Pepper's finally done now."

This left Bruce and Natasha alone once more. He stared at the kitten for a moment longer before braving crossing the room and petting—er—Chopsticks. Chopsticks purred under his touch, rubbing against his hand eagerly.

"Where'd you get him?" Why did she get him? Had he influenced her with their talk of cats and sentiment and—oh she was speaking again.

"—found him in a parking lot and I took him to a vet. She said he's healthy."

Bruce tried to imagine Natasha sitting in a veterinarian's waiting room with a little, soaking wet cat on her lap. It would be the sort of vet's office where there would be patronizing little pink and blue posters on the wall spouting common sense about pet care.

"He's cute." Bruce offered, slightly helplessly.

"I'm not keeping him permanently." Her voice suddenly became colder, "So unless you want him, you probably shouldn't get attached to him."

"Oh." Bruce slumped in the chair beside her, rubbing his head in an attempt to alleviate his headache.

"You're having a bad day." Natasha announced, "And you have a tension headache. So something stressful?"

"Pepper's going through our expenses."

"Oh. Hmm, well that's nothing to get too bothered about. It's her job."

"It's not that—it's that I cost a lot, between the housing and the research and the—"

"At uh!" Natasha snapped like she was correcting a dog, "Nope. You are not going to convince yourself that you're a burden. Angst lowers your overall productivity. Think of it like a grant you've applied for and received."

"But—"

"At uh!" She pointed at Bruce for emphasis "Obviously, in order to do your work, you need a place to live and food to eat. You don't even have a commute this way."

"Why are you trying to make me feel better?"

"Because you don't have a reason to feel bad at the moment." Natasha shrugged, scooping up Chopsticks.

"Then why aren't you going to keep Chopsticks?"

"The sun's setting." Natasha said absently, looking out the window, "You'll get to go home next week, Chopsticks."

* * *

The Bartons were perfectly pleased with the addition to their family. Natasha knew the kids would like a cat with a weird name like Chopsticks.


End file.
